Portraits from the Office
by justincbenedict
Summary: What was it like on Jim Halpert's first day? and later...
1. Chapter 1

DWIGHT MEETS THE PREDATOR

I've been here five years. I've seen all the tricks. When my old manager, Ed Truck was going to retire, I told him: "I'll take over for you, Ed. I'll cut the slackers out of here...dead wood. And I'll beef up security. As you are aware, I register my hands as deadly weapons in every police station, whenever I travel." Though the truth is, cops don't care anymore. Me, a nuisance? Was Shang-Chi, Marvel Comics's "Master of Kung Fu" a nuisance?

Ed promoted Michael to manager instead. It changed things. We were the trio, Michael, Todd Packer and I. Packer got sent to sell on the road after he snapped Jan Levinson-Gould's bra strap-and then Michael moved into the big office. And so there's not as much bonding. Nineteen months. Michael says he's been manager here for a "couple of years" but it's been nineteen months.

Yes, Packer and Michael and I...we closed Chili's night after night, back in the day. We're all self-made men, none of us college fairies. Todd could have gone to West Point, but he needed his home state-Louisiana's congressman for a recommendation, and David Duke, although a family friend, was a COUNCILMAN.

But we were the pranksters. Egging houses? Have you ever egged a nursing home? But we got a little too loose when we were on what Michael called a "moral tear" and Todd Packer lost his license after he ran over a Planned Parenthood bookkeepers foot. Now Packer's out of the office, and Michael's my superior, and the three Musketeers (I'm D'artangan) are no more. I miss the old Michael.

And believe you me, the guy-Michael's a great paintball buddy-he buys Creed's old "Barely Legal" zines at cost. But he's soft. The parade of losers who've passed as hire-able for Michael just mystify me. After Dawnette in Customer Service broke her engagement to Micheal, and quit, (and what a scene-The Fire Department had to break the door of the Men's Room down after Michael threatened to self-harm, but of course you can't do much to your wrists with an electric razor) And Michael had been loyal to Dawnette, even after he found out she was bulemic AND had been called George Voostenwalbert until the operation back in 1993.

Where was I? Oh hired an obese, loud little Indian girl. (Packer called her a "wog hog") to be Customer Service Rep. The girl uses "like" when she means "approximately") but I think she exchanged a favor for the job, poor lonely Michael, as Meredith did to get Ed Truck to hire HER back in '88.

Then of course there were a series of secretaries, or so-called "administrative assistants" who Michael couldn't pay much too, because they weren't in the budget...and then in comes an obese cretin...tells Michael he wants to work in the warehouse while he studies for his exam, and Michael hired him as an accountant because he got the GED test confused with the CPA.

Meredith was moved from Reception to the Annex after she gave our water cooler rep crabs or something, so Michael brings in this pitiful creature who is engaged to one of the Warehouse guys. She likes to doodle. Calls it "sketching" I was going to show little Pamela the receptionist ten different ways to kill a man with a pencil, but she's too daydreamy to learn something passed down from G. Gordon Liddy's radio program.

And then today, in comes a freakin' hippie (his hair is shorter than Michael's ponytail was before the Manager haircut, but damned sloppy.) Jim Hogwarts, or whatever his name is, was oh, so wonderful because he made a thirty case sale of Inkjet and Laser stock to some bullshit nonprofit. Beginner's luck, and he really needs to tuck in his shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

"REBIRTH" MEETS THE NEW GUY.

Back in the day, I lived at Morningstar Ranch, near Sausalito...Marin County, you know? I was called Larry somethin' or other, in the orphanage, and then changed my name to "Rebirth Spreading Forth" on the commune. But then I found a draft card that read "Creed Bratton" on it around '71, and figured it was kismet.

Started here in the warehouse in 1981...I put psilocybin on Ed Truck's frankfurter when we were eating at the weenie stand, and he instantly promoted me up to being head of quality assurance...coat and tie guy, me who quit third grade when I was eleven!

Old Ed, telling me "Creed, I believe in you" and then kneeling down and barking like a dog! As a supervisor, he was always an inspiration.

So this morning I was in the elevator with the new hire. I saw him when he came in for his interview last week. He looks like he can sell-what do we sell? I forget sometimes, so I check quality at the steel mill, the soup kitchen, and that cute little place, the container store. I must have it covered. I got a bonus last month.

New guy looks a little like Peter Yarrow. When I was with Magenta Raindrop, we opened for them at the Fillmore. "Puff the Magic Dragon" is no competition for the stuff we wrote, but our band broke up in '74 anyway. And I couldn't really get another music gig. Lot of prejudice against air bass players.

I don't know why the new hire wouldn't share a doobie with me in the lift. Maybe he's gay.


	3. Chapter 3

THANK GOD HE AIN'T A SOCIAL WORKER

They always sent one, a social worker, when they took them. Che, Polar, Sasha, Filek, Filka (twins) Orts Merlin, and Amber. Some were animals, others my kids, but whenever the govvies came in to snatch them away, they had a pretty-boy from the County come and tell me that I'd lost another one.

So when I saw gorgeous Hair-boy with the pretty blue shirt, I figured "CASEWORKER" I thought they'd snatched Jake, my son, or Hannibal Lecter, my trained baby gibbon, kind of trained. Hannibal bites when high voices irritate him. I don't blame him, when I have a hangover, I get nasty too!

The mailman learned the hard way, don't talk above a whisper when you're in my frickin' yard, and I bet he told the county. I'll tell them, Hannie doesn't like loud voices! No one's fault. I'm just waiting for the goddamn caseworker.

But Jim's not a caseworker, and he's a cutie, as well. Brand new. I feel sorry for him, sitting with Dwight Psycho. I had kind of a relationship with a guy who works at the recruiting station down at the mall.

Brandon told me that the Army cannot get it into Dwight's head that they don't want him. First it was just because Dwight has flat feet, and then they began listening to the weird shit that comes out of that guy's mouth...ugh.

But hey, I'm social, and I asked Michael twice if, even though Jim's a sales guy, he wouldn't like to sit near me. Meredith, you scare young men off, he goes. If you want, Stanley can sit near you. Oh boy. That's gonna be a blast. But anyhow, I think Stanley knows I puked in his left Capezio that time.

I keep giving the new guy looks. I send a message, whatever else you say about me. You wouldn't believe how I can change a man's life erotically, just by taking out my upper plate.

In a way, Jim reminds me of a brother of my second husband? Not the drip, but the hottie I met at traffic school. Never forget Caspar, we poured Dewar's-and piss-into the coffee pot at one of our fuckin' mandatory AA classes. That guy could always me laugh, old Caspar-but his real name came out as Jonathan in the inquest back in '99.

But pretty Jimbo seems to have an eye for our receptionist, a little bit. I'm not so crazy about her. I had a little thing with Roy down in the warehouse, and lent him some money, not the wisest thing I've done. And then Pam, his fiancée, comes to work here. She's so pale looking. And dresses like a goddamn nun.

I guarantee you, GUARANTEE, that Pam doesn't do the freaky shit that Roy likes in bed. She was so quiet, the time she's been working here, five, six months? Told Dwight and Kevin that she couldn't horse around because she had to focus on the phones, but now since the new caseworker-looking boy has wandered in, she's Miss Giggles.

I'm going to take my Peppermint Schnapps into the can and diddle my widdle with a No.2 pencil. It's not my day.


	4. Chapter 4

NOT CHARLIE BROWN AT ALL

People don't get to know me. Trust me, I've got a lot to say. For instance, although my name is Toby, Tobias, really, I always wanted to be nicknamed "Butch" No dice.

Back at Aaron Burr Elementary, the other kids called me "Charlie Brown". They said I was wishy-washy, that I was Toby Tattler, but what, really, does that mean? And when I can't meet people's expectations, it doesn't seem to change.

Meredith just asked me if I could get Michael to transfer her desk to the bullpen. I like Meredith-I owe Meredith, really. When Karen caught us in bed together, and threw me out, Meredith never ratted me out to Michael-well, it was Ed Truck then.

I couldn't understand it, either. Karen had three affairs and I never threw her out. I caught her necking with Todd Packer at our Christmas party, back in the Annex, and I let it go. Packer was sure that's why I turned him in to Corporate when he exposed himself to Jillian, but I'm a forgiving guy.

No, Meredith, I can't transfer you. That's not what I do. It might be a good idea. Meredith might be a good chaperone for all the nonsense. The new kid seems to be much more focused on bothering Pam, who is a dynamic part of the office-I feel like my life began when she got here, but we don't really talk much.

Meredith said I didn't have the gumption to ask Michael about the transfer. It's not my job to transfer people. I'm a Human Resources representative. I've made decisions. Serious ones.

I thought maybe I had a vocation because I was still a virgin when I was twenty-three, so I went into the seminary. Then I transferred to another seminary, one in Toledo, because the other seminarians were flicking their towels at me in the locker room.

And then I met Karen, and quit the seminary for good. She was the only barista at Starbucks who had any interest in getting my order straight. Karen also got me into Rogaine, although I'm not sure if it helped.

Michael Scott hates me just because I don't want him endangering the office with offensive silliness. He made the previous receptionist quit by planting a mic under her desk and saying in this creepy voice..."Raping Dead Kittens Is Awesome..." He's lucky he wasn't fired! But I'm the douche bag, right?

And I am sure he and Dwight were the ones that dropped the urine-filled balloons on my head when I came out of the office, someone had told me that one of my old buddies from the Hall Monitor's Club wanted to meet me outside about our high school reunion.

I'd only told Dwight about the Hall Monitor's Club because he'd confessed to me that he was thrown out of Safety Patrol as a kid during one of our counseling sessions.

There Jim is again, talking to Pam. Leaning right over her desk. How can she get any phones answered? Two weeks, he's a good salesman, but he's never at his desk. Angela keeps me posted about how much disruption's going on there.

It's creepy, but I think Pam unbuttoned her blouse one or two buttons. For Jim? Kelly suggested that instead of filing a memo to Corporate about the harassment, I should just drop a note to Roy.

That's Pam's fiancée. Kelly apparently goes down there to meet some other guy, or maybe it's Roy himself, as she promised me she could slip the note into Roy's coveralls when he's "not wearing them".

Seriously. If Pam really wants to focus on her homework from the community college, which is what she told me she does during lunch, and can't go on invitations to Applebee's (I have a half-off card for the Caesar's salad, but really, she could order anything) then Jim shouldn't be distracting her so much. It just shouldn't happen.

Damn it, it just shouldn't happen.


	5. Chapter 5

TIGHT PANTS, LOOSE LANGUAGE

Toby is just mooning around in the Annex. I went to file a complaint against Creed, who keeps going on about the time he stripped off all his clothes on the tip of Mount Tamalpais, wherever that is. On Monday, when I complained about Kevin's flatulence, Toby just stared at me.

And I know why. It's Slut Central here. Disgusting as Meredith Palmer is, she's not a tempting sort. (If she coughs, we'll all get Chlamydia).

But we have the Third World woman whose parents must own stock in Revlon, or else they'd be bankrupt with what she slathers on her chubby little face. See, I'm funny. People say I'm not fun to be with, but I'm full of witty um, observations.

But I'm afraid I'm just a little whore-phobic. (That's cute, isn't it?) I was going to major in Exercise Science at Bob Jones, but it was a bordello waiting to happen. One thing about Accounting is, math doesn't act up.

I thought of majoring in Biblical and Pastoral Counseling, but the slattern who chaired that department wouldn't let me, because I told her I hated people.

I don't, really. I've just been disappointed by so many of them. I liked Pam the receptionist when I first met her, she dresses respectably. If she thinks my sweaters are too snug, she can go to Halifax, though. Nothing wrong with being pleased with my figure...I'm a compact one.

But goodness, Pam is so popular, it's a bit flashy...not her personality. I don't know what it is, but Toby and Kevin and Michael just can't stay away from her desk. "D" is different. So is Oscar, he seems to just ignore the whores, but you never know about those types. I dated a district attorney once who told me that the Miranda ruling had something to do with a Hispanic rapist.

And Oscar looks a little like my Papa's gardener, which gives me old, bad feelings I can't really talk about, but "D" is just wonderful.

"D" keeps the other employees busy, reports the tardy promptly, even though he doesn't have to crack the whip, and he always compliments me on my work, and on my cat pictures.

He did tell me, "D" did, about how he and his cousin Mose and some half-brother Leopold had a bobcat skinning contest, which I thought was in bad taste, but generally "D" is the perfect gentleman, and his glasses are so polished!

I can't go all out, discussing "D" but he is the only palatable man in this office. He has values, he's adventurous. I almost showed up as a character witness after "D" was accused of poisoning a child just because he shot a paintball in its mouth. A foolish adolescent boy, who challenged "D". But that's the game. If you can't stand the heat, right?

But my mystery man "D" has one Achilles heel. He seems to worship Michael Scott, who is a nightmare as manager. Was he a good salesman? Yes, but to promote him so he sits in his office and is just vulgar.

And Toby's afraid of Michael. Otherwise he'd have been fired like a shot, out, Michael Scott. (See, I rhyme. I should present myself as a poet on the Christian Mingle site.)

And this new salesman-he wears distressingly tight pants. I seem to keep looking at him when he gets up from his desk. I wonder if he has to lie down to pull these pants on. Big shoulders, he'd seem all right, but I think he tortures "D".

Why be a viper if you don't have to be? That's my outlook on it.

Oh God-Golly. Kevin came back from lunch and he had refried beans AGAIN.


	6. Chapter 6

LIKE WORKING WITH DECAPRIO, REALLY

Omigod. LOOK AT HIM. He's a tall Leonardo DeCaprio. No, really. There was an Instagram of Leo and Gisele at the beach, and Jim Halpert looks all wind blowy in the hair? Right? Do you see it? Even though, like...there's no wind in this boring-ass office.

Bananas, Bananas, Bananas. Gisele is with Tom Brady now, and that is so stupid. I bet if she saw Jim the salesman she'd go all um, German on him. No wait, she's Brazilian? Whatevs. Football players, ick. Jim and Leo are both more cute city than any of the Patriots...

I bought a Pleather (bright blue, so hot) slit dress on Ebay from some gonnhorea-bag in Iowa or Nevada.

When it comes in the mail, I'm gonna wear it and walk super casual over by Reception. Jim's always staring over there, like the Cookie Monster is answering the phone or something.

I think he likes my voice. That's why I was hired. I was working at 1-900 - FRISK-Y-KITTENS, and (You have to understand, I'd just failed out of beautician's college) and I got into an interesting conversation with "Uncle Todd" after he had his happy ending following the I-will-spank-your-bare bottom stuff.

We both lived in Scranton! Well, Todd Packer and I had a thing, and then there was, well, two abortions. My family, back in India, were Untouchables, but my brother said that Todd was WAY untouchable, but Todd got me this job in Customer Service! And implants.

The money wasn't as good (though I do the phones on Thursday nights to cover my car payment-my Dad's such an asshole) but I discovered that I could actually put concern in my voice when apologizing that some idiot's 8 and a half x 11 Brite Hue arrived in the wrong color.

I'm getting close to thirty, and I would really like to get married. My parents tried to arrange something with some guy from Bombay, and he was so boring. I talked to him twice on the phone, and he just talked about Ved Mehta's book on Partition and Gandhi...

And the second guy, Jayant something (Or Anant?)was cute, and funny...so I went and slept with him first, even though that is kinda against the rules.

So word got around that I did that, and now no one wants to do an arranged marriage with me, and like I care? But if I could marry a nice doctor or something I could get out of this shitty apartment.

My parents keep talking about going back to Penn State, but I am so sure that somebody will bring up what I did on the muscle relaxers at Bridgefield Hall. And besides, Trig gives me hives.

I really want to get to know Jim. He is like an Amish. He knows nothing about the Kardashians, or Doctor Oz, I guess he must just watch basketball. Ugh. Very boring, but the receptionist can't get enough of him. She missed a really pissed off caller who was upset about mis-sent Manila File folders, but like I care, right?


	7. Chapter 7

MEN'S HEALTH IS A GREAT MAGAZINE, RIGHT?

I think Pam, the receptionist likes me. She's playful. Whenever I come over to the reception area, Pam moves the jar of M&M's. Out of my reach. The sign in front of the jar says "Help yourself" but she moves the jar when I come up, it's kind of a game.

She even jokes about it, but is always careful not to smile. "Kevin, you can't eat my candy if you're going to scratch yourself." She knows I'm not scratching myself! I just reach into my pants to re-adjust my boxers. But "Men's Health" says that girls like to banter, and I'm getting pretty good at it.

Not that I am trying to get with Pam. I have a fiancée, Stacy. She's out of town for a couple of weeks, she and my best friend, Lawrence, who's also the bass player in our band, "Scrantonicity" went on a wine-tasting tour.

They told me to stay home and watch Stacy's daughter, McKenzie, because wine gives me gas. But they call me from the Vermont hotels every night. When Lawrence and Stacy call me, McKenzie always rolls her eyes. She's a smart-ass, but very cute.

We had a meeting about snacking at our desks, and Michael said we can have snacks, but not a full-course meal, and I asked what constitutes a full-course meal at my desk, and now I can't have more than a candy bar there.

I think Michael likes Pam a little bit. It's a little quiet between them, because she cut up his Whoopie cushion, but I know Michael was just kidding around with her.

Michael asked me what I thought he should do to get Pam a little interested in him. He was thinking of putting chocolate pudding in her handbag, but that's how he got Jillian, his personal assistant to quit, as I remember. Toby keeps sending Pam these weird poems, anonymously...and then I think Pam and Jim make fun of them.

Jim is the new salesman. He's a great guy, we talk about the Phillies a lot. Pam and Kelly are so friendly to him, and so is Phyllis. It must be a new guy thing...though when I came to work here, no one said anything to me, except nasty stuff like "If you can't add or subtract, how are you an accountant?"

I was actually going to work in the warehouse. Mom had agreed to quit smoking if I got a job and moved out of the house...thirty-seven is the age to leave the nest, she said.

I did have a part time job at Men's Wearhouse, and that's how Michael met me...and he once auditioned to do a male-yet-female-Stevie-Nicks singing thing with-it's too complicated, but when I needed a job, you know, so I could move out, I went to where he has dinner on Thursday nights, Chuck E. Cheese (Michael loves dancing with the big rat) and asked his advice. He told me to come right in!

So I interviewed with Michael, but he had just had a fight with Angela, in accounting, and he said he was going to get even. I was a little afraid, though the salary to work in the warehouse is about seventeen, and up here is forty-plus.

The work isn't bad but people keep stealing my snacks from the desk, and leaving weird stuff, like deodorant, and celery. I'm not sure what they want me to do with their uh, discarded stuff.

I feel great about being an accountant. 'Cause I failed second, fifth and ninth grades, Mom always thought I might not realize my potential, but now I have made the family really proud-a real accountant and also drummer in a Police cover band.

Oscar and Angela mostly have me work with labels and stuff, they don't like me to do the bookkeeping-and-numbers side of accounting. I guess I'm a specialist.


	8. Chapter 8

I'M SURROUNDED BY MEDIOCRITY

What a sad creature Kevin Malone is. Last week he was wearing that stupid hairpiece, and my eyes were fuzzed up with diabetes trouble, and I thought Kevin was Phyllis in a pantsuit.

I feel like I've been escaping losers since I was born. My daddy spent most of his life trying to scrape up three quarters for a pint of Night Train, and began begging handouts from me after I got my first paper route. Dis-gusting.

When I was thirteen I left home to live with the neighbors, but they whined too much, and so I lied my way into the Air Force, for an unprofitable decade, and then I wound up at this worthless paper company.

I was first managed by Robert Dunder's worthless nephew, he up and ran off with a bookkeeper and the petty cash in '83, and then Ed Truck came along. He was bearable, and didn't call any meetings. How Ed Truck could choose Michael Scott as his replacement in '01 still mystifies me. Utterly.

Truck asked me if I wanted it, to be manager, but you make way more on commission and I have a wife and two girlfriends to support, to say nothing of my time-share in Costa Rica. But just because I didn't want to manage the damn branch didn't mean he had to choose the Dunder-Mifflin-Scranton village idiot, did he?

I guess Truck couldn't have chosen Todd Packer, he's a convicted felon, Packer is, something to do with a niece in a dark corner...I guess Phyllis isn't forceful enough to be a manager, and Dwight of course is out of his mind.

What is going on with Michael Scott? He can't leave me alone. He's apparently never met a black man before. I fascinate him for all the wrong reasons. And he thinks he's in a VFW hall. He wants us to be his-his pals. It's just disgusting.

I've never had much use for a lot of friends. Or company in general. I like a piece of tail now and then, but I shared a bed with three brothers growing up. That was enough of that. (They're all a bunch of damn junkies now, except for Cyrus, who sells life insurance, which is worse)

I just want to make money, go home and watch my mystery show. I have a talkative wife and ungrateful children, and the last thing I need in my life is Michael Scott and his constant call for meetings in the conference room.

I mean, Michael wants to be a comedian, but I am not coming to work here every day to be a audience member on his "Tonight" show. Last week, he and Dwight tried to do it together "I just came back from Africa, from playing cards with the natives, Dwight." "Zulus?" "No, I won!" It's not racist, it's just stupid. Scott is STUPID.

When Michael awarded me my "Grumpy" Dundie trophy in lieu of a bonus last November, I damn near made him eat it!

I still can't believe they hired a new salesman. I'm annoyed enough trying to get all the schools and offices in Scranton for myself without dividing up leads. He looks a little sleepy, this Jim Halpert, but he's quick with the sales-nearly as quick as Michael Scott back in the day. That was Michael's lone talent, he could sell.

White people can really master that shit-eating grin. That is for sure.


	9. Chapter 9

HE'S JUST STUPID

Michael's stupid. I always knew it. We were both in the class of '81 at William Penn High. I think actually that Michael was supposed to graduate in '79, but as I said, he's stupid. He was thrown out of our debate club for jumping up and down with his fingers in his ears and shrieking "I can't hear you!"

Michael Scott could sell, though. He drove my dad crazy knocking on our door trying to peddle magazine subscriptions. But finally we were subscribed-to "Archeological Digest" and two other crappy things that I think Mom gave to the church.

I have a Master's degree in Biology. A lot of people don't know that about me. I wanted to go to Washington, D.C. and work for the National Institutes of Health, but I got pregnant.

Raymond was a custodian and one of only two males in the Lackawanna County Knitter's Guild, and we had a brief love affair, but then he disappeared, and I could never have an abortion.

It happened before, in high school, too. I had to give a baby away. Pregnancies are like hiccups...my brother called me the "knocked up knockout" but like Michael, he's stupid, too.

The third time I got pregnant was by Ed Truck. That time, I had a miscarriage, but Ed gave me a job here at Dunder Mifflin. It was right after I'd had a nervous breakdown following a movie I saw about horror mirrors. I can't really explain that.

But I turned out to be a good salesperson. At the Bucks County Bible Society they always say "Here Comes Phyllis!" and they have a big order for me. I don't mind driving the sixty-five miles, not at all.

I like everyone here in the office, although Angela is mean about my spreadsheets, and she always criticizes any ideas I have for the Party Planning Committee.

And it's so unfair. I was one of the decorators for our high school prom. Michael was too-we put up streamers together, neither of us had a date, and I felt badly later when a couple of football players stuffed Michael into a trash can. (But he can be annoying)

The new salesman, Jim Halpert has dreamy eyes, and is really nice. Stanley's always grumpy, and there's something wrong with Dwight, although we did bond a little when I helped him paint his Dungeons and Dragons figurines a few months ago.

But Jim is very nice, and just adorable. I wonder if he is curious about me? I did drop a sheet I downloaded off the Internet about how Big Beautiful Women are the most energetic of lovers. I know he looked at it, because he showed it to Pam.

Pam's engaged to Roy, and you would think she would focus on Roy instead of kidding around with Jim. Angela said that Pam is destined for an inferno or something. But flirting's nice.

I just need to find out if I can get some pictures of me in lingerie. Imagine Jim's surprise if I left that in his folder!

There's a photo booth in the Steamtown Mall where I could maybe change into my Merry Widow and prance around in the booth while the camera works it's magic, but I'm afraid it's too small for me to really uh, move around without showing myself outside of the booth. That could get me kicked out of the mall, right?


	10. Chapter 10

NOT THAT EVERYONE'S QUEER

It's funny, I only got here six months ago, myself. I wondered if there would be other, as my uncle used to say "maricons" here at Dunder-Mifflin. Dios Mio, right?

I couldn't find any, and then this new, pretty hot guy showed up , and he seems nice, Jim. But I can kind of tell that he's straight. Or bi.

We have one bi guy here. Well, he's on the road now. Close friend with the boss, and very much in the closet. When Todd Packer came in the first time, after I'd been here a few weeks, our eyes met, and I remember him from the White Party in Philly.

Bald, ugly, had to use drugs and cash to get any attention from the youngsters at the White Party. The tweaking twinks wanted little to do with Packer, and he really fell for a friend of mine, Relacion, and was following him around, begging. That's the only reason Todd "Fudge" Packer got to know me, Relacion and I were buddies.

Never saw Packer after that, in gay bars in Scranton at all, I'd forgotten about him.

And then Packer discovers I work here, and he's of course a closet queen, a misogynistic homophobe. My sister Illuminada studied Shakespeare at Penn, and would say Todd "doth protest too much" way too much.

The first or second time Todd came in, he corners me, uttering all sorts of sordid threats about me exposing him, and I basically said "leave me alone and I'll do the same for you".

"Yeah, that's good, Oscar, because I'm not a gay-boy, I was just experimenting." He gave me the whole thing.

Of course, within days, Packer wanted to blow me in the hall restroom near Vance Refrigeration. And of course he wanted to know about Relacion, who he'd been thinking about.

Relacion died. I didn't tell Todd that, because Todd did get a pity fuck from Relacion, and Relacion, who was one of those holistic med idiots, died from AIDS related pneumocystis.

All I needed was that bald idiot going into a tailspin thinking he was infected, and he wasn't. Relacion only went bareback with those he loved, and one of those he loved had the bug.

After a while, Packer got so uncomfortable around me, that he asked if he could go on the road instead of being in the office like he'd been for eleven years, and so I don't see him anymore, thank God.

Then there weren't any new people, until Jim Halpert arrived.

But Jim's a nice guy, and unlike Todd, he's here every day. It's kind of a drag, in the Accountants corner with Kevin and Angela. Kevin is sweet but incompetent, and Angela is kind of a Britney version of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Maybe Jim is gay, and I just haven't seen it yet. I have a lover, Gil, and I'm pretty close to him, but Jim's got these kind of twinkling blue eyes...


	11. Chapter 11

YES, THE NEW TALENT IS QUITE, QUITE TALENTED

I don't go down to Scranton much. I have about six regional offices to supervise, and there's been a lot going on at Utica, so I only drive to Scranton when Michael has been acting up again. I would fire Michael, happily, except that his branch seems to bring in a lot of money, and clients love him...why?

I never did make many paper sales when I first was at Dunder-Mifflin Bridgeport. Or when I was a sales rep at Hammermill before that. I think it's probably because the corporate purchasing agents don't like strong women.

My father was like that. Hated his daughters, revered his loser son, and when I told my mother that he'd been touching me, she had to stand by her man, and I went off to Choate, which was run, of course by another angry, fearful, man.

But I'm a good administrator. The men seem to understand that I want results, except for Michael Scott, who seems to produce financially, but without really trying, and he's weird.

Last time I went down to Scranton, Michael was wearing a plumed hat and playing with a plastic sword, and had a cape, and was chasing that other idiot Kevin Malone around, trying to "Bull -gore" him...

I was going "Michael, this is not appropriate managerial behavior" and of course Michael responds with "Miss Jan Levinson-Gould, you are an appropriate maiden..." or some shit, and then I look over and see the new guy, Jim Halpert.

Oh, yes.

Normally I don't fraternalise with the staff, but I took scrumptious-oh my. I took Jim Halpert to lunch. He'd been at the Scranton office for all of two weeks, and although I didn't find him particularly interesting-you just want men to kind of sit there and look pretty sometimes-I did enjoy talking to him.

I actually offered Jim a position in New York as my admin. I told him I could match whatever he was making in sales in Scranton, but he said he had to stay in Scranton, because his folks live here.

Isn't that sweet?

Gomer Pyle with better clothes. I haven't spoken to my family in eight years, and my husband, Larry just served me with a separation agreement...but this boy wants his family.

So back I went to New York. Michael, of course walked me to my car, and I tried to explain that you can't run around dressed like a Musketeer, or give out water in dribble glasses when entertaining from Corporate...Michael always tells me that I'm beautiful, which is inappropriate, but in a creepy way I get a kick out of him.

In a really, really creepy way.


	12. Chapter 12

I HAVE A NEW BEST FRIEND...THE BESTEST

It's been three weeks since my buddy came to work here. Geez Louise. I like Dwight, but there's so much more to do than Lazertag or painting Dungeons & Dragons figurines.

We did have some fun, Dwight and I, met some women at the D&D get together at Scranton West Methodist Friday nights. Went to a Science Fiction convention with them in Baltimore, they call it Balticon, running around in chain mail. Todd Packer even came and was selling the kids cocaine at eight dollars a line.

Dwight handcuffed his girlfriend to a water pipe, and she was a little heavy, and the pipe broke, and the hotel had water damage, we had to get out of there, and then Amanda-the one I was seeing-her dad came up to get her, and I found out Amanda was only in tenth grade. Her dad didn't have to hit me.

People ask me, "Michael, you're a good boss. Why do you make friends with so many of your employees, when you could be hob nobbing with the big guns?"

And it's humility, and I'm humble, and willing to socialize with the creme-de la crème, and the um,creme de la crumbs in this dump...except for Toby. If I'm Hawkeye Pierce, Toby Flenderson is Frank Burns big time. It's too bad.

But Jim, the new guy came to work here as I said three weeks ago, and we are PALS.

I get when subordinates don't want to hang with the boss...before Ed Truck retired, I couldn't imagine why anyone would-what? Talk to him about Ho Chi Minh in World War II? Boring.

Jim's weirdly focused on doing his best, work, work, work...didn't want to put a garter snake in Phyllis's desk, always afraid of adventure. The kids in my neighborhood were kind of stand-offish sometimes. My mom said they were jealous, so I tried to talk to them real slow.

But Jim's really nice. I had told him about Amanda, and how I had actually lost my innocence with her-I'm a late bloomer, and I guess she's a really early one...couldn't discuss it with Dwight, because he ALSO spent time with Amanda. Her dad is a psycho. Could use the anger management classes Corporate offers.

But I was crying a little in the bathroom on Jim's third day, and he was so nice, he and the receptionist, Pam, took me out to lunch. And then I took them to my favorite magic shop.

Jim and I haven't really hung out that much since then, but I give him a knock-knock joke every day, and my "Fat Albert" impressions, which he thought sounded like Sergeant Schultz from "Hogan's Heroes" what a goof.

Jim is my best friend though. I knew I'd get one someday.


	13. Chapter 13

I WANT PAM TO HAVE FRIENDS, BUT THE GUY'S ALWAYS HANGING AROUND

I can't talk all the time. I mean, I talk to Darryl, my boss in the Warehouse, and to my brother Kenny. Once, after two DUIs, I got put on probation, and the P.O's name was Ray, almost just like my name, and he was a trip, and we ended up getting a DUI together. Guys, right?

My girl-Pam. She loves to talk. She's my fiancée, I guess. I keep forgetting about that. I told her I can marry her after I get out of this job and go to electrician's school, or maybe open a surf shop in Rehoboth.

I love Pam. We've been engaged, kind of, since 9th grade. She took me to Prom, since I was about twenty and not really enrolled there anymore, and I knew she was my girl, right?

I found out about this job in the warehouse at Dunder-Mifflin. I had this buddy I met in traffic school, little Indian guy-dot, not feather Indian-the guy's sister Kelly was working there upstairs in the office.

My friend was not really into being Indian, talked as white as you and me, and he changed his name to Tom Haverford and moved to Indiana, Pawnee, somewhere.

Tom shot me an e-mail, says he's in local government there. I should get into the Post Office as a sorter, like Dad. I mean, I told Pam, I can't marry her unless I have a good job.

But before he left town, Tom, the me to meet his sister Kelly, and Kelly and I kind of fooled around-I'm engaged to Pam, but eatin' ain't cheatin-and then Kelly got me the job here.

And then, Pam graduated from high school, and was going to study graphic design at Penn State, but I said, "Let's get you working and we can get a place, and eventually get married."

So she became a receptionist upstairs. Which meant we could have lunch together, though I get sick of talking to her every day. I mean, we're at home together, work together, you know. Blah Blah. How much can you hear about buying shoes, or Betsy Johnson store, right? Women aren't that um, stimulating at conversation.

And Pam didn't really make friends upstairs that much. I worried about that a little, but she's artsy-keeps to herself. She cries sometimes when I don't want to talk all the time, like I said, but then in the last month she's different...sings in the morning, and I thought she'd been hanging out with the girls upstairs.

But it's the new guy. Nice, kind of a wimpy guy, not a psycho like Dwight, but you know, string-bean, whatever. He and Pam have a lot of laughs. But he's always at her desk...all the time.

The little Christian chick, (who I wouldn't mind schtuppin') Blondie whatever, she actually came down to the warehouse and told me I should watch out, 'cause Jim and Pam are always whispering back and forth.

But the guy's a wuss. If I hit him, he'd probably fall into a jigsaw puzzle. So I'm not real worried.

But he's always at her desk. ALWAYS.


	14. Chapter 14

SEVEN YEARS LATER, A NEW-NEW GUY.

How did I get into paper? Selling, you mean. Well, I graduated from Cornell-I'm sure you've heard of it-and had thought of med school, but the sciences freak me out. Organelles sound like an old Buddy Holly band, and an endoplasmic reticulum-leetle bit gay? I think so.

Nana gave me my inheritance early-as an investment, as my pals in my a capella group, "Here Comes Treble" we thought we could do a demo, a sort of Lawrence Welk comeback. But Colton and Trey, they ran off with the money. I was all "Guys I invested this in our future."

The law? I tried being a paralegal, but Uncle Trevor-I worked for him, he's a circuit judge-yelled at me when I made mistakes.

See I get a bloody nose when things are tense, and I ran it all over some of his papers. Uncle Trev said being a Bernard might be enough (With my SATs) to get into Cornell, but in good conscience, he could not recommend me to law school.

I asked if I could still work in his office, and Uncle Trev said he would resign from being a judge and from the practice of law before he'd let me stay another day-and he pointed out that we're rich, I didn't really need to work, but I do, you know? I'm old fashioned. I have to be independent. So I called my mom, and told on Uncle Trev.

Mummy really yelled at Trev, , and to calm her down, he got someone to hire me at the Albany Dunder-Mifflin, I sent a beer in an Inter-Office Envelope, and someone didn't like that, so I was transferred to Stamford, and now we've been absorbed by Scranton.

When I was at Stamford, the deal with my boss Josh was, I didn't have to try and sell, but I needed to stay out of his hair...this new place is different. Michael Scott, the manager here says he sees great things in me.

At Stamford, the women were bitchy and frigid, and the guys kind of cliquish? I remember that from boarding school.

The guy I came over with, Jim Halpert-I call him "Big Tuna"-he ate a tuna sandwich his first day, and guys bond over nicknames-mine at Andover was "Pancake Face"-not sure why-but I wanted to be friends with Jim.

But here at this office, where he originated, in Scranton, I expected him to introduce me to his crew of guys, we could hang out together the way I've seen people do in movies. But Jim doesn't hang out with guys, and after meeting the other guys, I may understand.

Creed's senile, Dwight showed me 12 ways to kill a guy with a pencil, and Kevin picked an M&M that was stuck to my shirt and ate it. I figure to get ahead, I can fuzzy up to Michael Scott...pretty smart? I already got him to let me do his laundry instead of Dwight...this is how Cornelius Vanderbilt started!


	15. Chapter 15

IT'S BECAUSE I'M A Q-TIP, RIGHT?

I keep wondering why I can't find another job. I started at Dunder-Mifflin as a temp, I got my MBA, got a better job in New York running Dunder Mifflin...had some ideas that didn't work out.

So I'm back here at Dunder-Mifflin as a temp again. People say it's because I was a little fraudulent during my time at Corporate that I can't get another gig...but I think it might be my appearance.

When I was at Science camp in 1999, Jimmy Bullivant told me I looked like a Q-Tip that had been dunked in black ink.

No one appreciates me, it seems, except Michael, who drives me crazy, and Kelly, who drives me crazier. Even when I was in New York, I couldn't close the deal with any of the hot women there.

Kelly kept saying "Ryan, you're so hot, I adore you." But she is the only one, and maybe um, Michael, ugh.

I bought BLOW and got nothing. It was nothing like "Bright Lights, Big City." It just sucked. I was kind of glad when Security escorted me out of the building.

But, like Hotel California, I'm back at Dunder Mifflin, and Kelly took me back. It's a big secret, but since college I haven't had any other real girlfriends, and she's okay, but she won't leave me alone. Calls all the time.

Then there's Michael. I looked out of my bedroom window the other night, around one a.m. and Michael's standing in my parent's driveway, staring.

I can't sell paper. It's just not that interesting. Why the clients buy it from a lunatic like Dwight Schrute, I'll never know-and Jim Halpert's like a big child, with his stupid pranks. And women go for his rap-why?

First he picked up the purse girl, I tried asking her out after they split up, nothing. Then Karen Fillipelli. She was a sexy transfer from Stamford, and Jim does six months with her, breaks up with her for Pam...and Karen immediately became regional manager over at the Utica branch.

I called Karen once, told her I was passing through Utica (who passes through there, though?) and asked her if she wanted to have some drinks, I thought it would be a relief after Jim Halpert. And this was when I was a corporate VP in New York.

Nope. She asked a bunch of irrelevant questions about Jim and Pam and then kind of hung up on me. I tried to get her fired, but David Wallace is pussy-whipped by these idiots.

And then Pam. How pathetic. She has gone and married Jim Halpert. I would have given her a chance-but like Michael says, a prophet is never honored in his own village, I guess.

God I hate Jim Halpert.

I gotta go now. Kelly is giving me a weird look again, and I really just want to stay home, and you know, look at porn. On my thirtieth birthday, my dad finally unscrambled it from the cable.


	16. Chapter 16

EVERYONE IS SO NICE

This is my first office job. I was a greeter at Wal-Mart, but I kept forgetting my lines. And then I was working for my neighbor Hal who is a cement mixer.

Hal wanted me to wear these shorts and fishnet stockings when I was pouring the stuff to make sidewalks, and it just seemed so impractical. Sure, the coveralls everyone else wore were ugly, but still. Hal was nice though-lots of hugs.

Michael wasn't here when I first got the job. Again, stuff to remember. First it was "Dunder-Mifflin, this is Kelly" but there was another Kelly here, so then I had to change it to my middle name, Erin. So that was a whole new sentence to memorize.

Guys are so friendly. Sometimes I get too emotionally, and also the other way-involved?

I had to leave two foster homes, a group home, and Scranton Area High School because guys got the wrong idea, and at Scranton High, the vice-principal's wife actually followed us to the Ramada Inn. So I didn't get my diploma.

Michael came back to work at the office after I'd been here about a month, and he is great.

He has so many interesting ideas. I don't know why he wastes his life at a paper company. He said he'd run for President, but it's illegal to be President if your mom visited Canada while you were in the womb.

Some of the women I work with aren't real chatty. I keep having to throw out wastebaskets after Meredith upchucks in 'em, and Pam is distant. Maybe because she thinks I like her husband, Jim. But I don't, that way. He's not macho like Andy, you know? Angela is helping me not look like a tramp...we went to my house and she threw out all my lip gloss, and blusher. And then she let me help bathe her cats. That's a real friend.

But the guys are so friendly here. Kevin had a crush on me, but I didn't share feelings, but to make him feel better I let him do a little stuff in the break room. Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration told me that he and Phyllis are swingers, and-he invited me to come over.

But Phyllis might be my mom! She gave a baby away the same year I was born, almost the same month. So if we did that it would be the bug thing-insects. (I mean, wow, if you make it with a relative, you're like a bug-ugh.)

I don't have a mom or dad, but Michael is so encouraging. When I first made mistakes as a receptionist, I was crying, and Michael told me that he started as a receptionist, and they were going to fire him, 'cos he's so funny, he'd answer the phone "Scott's Massage Parlor".

But then, right before he got fired, Michael answered a salesman's phone by accident and got the account for Liberty Mutual, or some big place, so they made him a salesman and tripled his salary, but made him promise not to go near the receptionist desk again.

I almost went home with Michael, and I told him that I would, because he was so nice, but he said "Erin, I care about you." Other people I told that to? They said I was lying, that Michael Scott would sleep with a ferret if it stood still, but Michael says I'm the daughter he never had...and I say vice verses, or verses vice, or, you know what I mean.


	17. Chapter 17

I GUESS JIM ISN'T SUCCESS FRIENDLY

My dad used to say that. "Success Friendly". Dad grew up in a big old Italian Catholic family, with seven brothers and sisters, and almost everyone got through school-studied, won half scholarships to Loyola or Fordham. They met and married nice people, and began having lives.

But a couple of his sibs, particularly my uncle Gino, just couldn't hack it. Sure, Gino was self-supporting, but he turned down a good career in insurance to make puppets for a living! And made crappy romantic choices. I think Gino lives on some farm in Ohio, the last commune. Ugh.

Dad said there are first round draft choices-the best looking, most intelligent and successful people meet at say, twenty-three, and then the second round at twenty seven, and then after thirty, you just have a lot of freaks wandering around making trouble. Hilarious.

"Don't be a third round draft choice, Karen" Dad would tell me. Choose the best of everything. I've done well, except for some really STUPID romantic choices.

Third round draft choices describes the Scranton office. I'm not just talking about mousy, passive aggressive would-be artist types who, never mind.

But the whole staff. Toby's a shmuck, Creed's just like my Uncle Gino, doesn't realize 1969 is over, and Kevin's like Lenny from that Steinbeck book we read in tenth grade.

Dwight's a freak, keeps medieval knouts and other shit in his desk, Angela's a repressed bigot, and I think Stanley may be a self-hating black man, because he isolates himself.

Though Stanley's married, and he does work, and we wanted to get him to work here in the Utica branch, where I'm regional manager now. Because I'm a WINNER.

Captain of the drill team, editor of the yearbook, magna cum laude from Wake Forest, and a damn good saleswoman. And I wasn't content to just sit around in the Scranton office for life, like Phyllis or Stanley, watching Michael Scott behave as if he just climbed over the White House fence with no clothes on.

But Jim Halpert-he could've been a winner too. Good looking, smart. David Wallace told me that when Jim and I went up to New York to see about the VP position that Ryan ultimately got (and lost, 'cause he's a nut, too) David practically offered the job to Jim. But Jim just wanted to stay in Scranton, so he could woo the receptionist.

Is that sad or what?


	18. Chapter 18

HELL NIGHT: JAN

It's a big change. Going from Vice President of Regional Sales at Dunder-Mifflin to stroking my domestic side for a bit. I told Michael, I'm excited about us living together, though it still makes me uncomfortable when he says he loves me.

So I need space. I don't like "Cuddling". It's creepy. I got Michael a nice little cot to sleep in on the end of the bed, except of course when we're having sex. (I also hate the term "making love" Michael reminds me of my aunt's Debbie Boone records sometimes.)

Okay, it isn't a cot. I have Michael sleep on a bench. It's a little bench, but men of Michael's age can get back problems, and the bench he sleeps on keeps his spine honest.

I'm actually really happy to just focus on my art-I have a small candle-making business. My mother always thought art was a waste of time. Well, Fuck You, Mom. No one is going to make me take tennis lessons at the expense of my happiness now.

Michael said he wanted to have people over; it seems that all his friends are the idiots at work. I met one or two people at Michael's improv class, but I think one person blocked his email, and then this uh, semester the class is too full, Michael couldn't get in. How is a class too full with only eight people? That's what I call bad management.

I thought the people at Dunder-Mifflin-Scranton were incredibly selfish, they knew we were struggling as a couple, but the accounting people wouldn't give Michael cash advances, and then he had to quit the telemarketing to focus on his day job, although when I was managing him, Michael didn't seem to focus at all.

So they're coming for dinner tonight. Those people. Pam Beesly, of course. I connected with Karen Fillipelli on LinkedIn and she told me how Pam stole Jim from her. But let's face it, Pam wants the big prize.

Miss shy Laura Ingalls, that's what Pam tries to be. But Michael told me that she's made his work life hell, with the flirting. She wants him. Well, the girl's got another think coming tonight. Angela is coming too. Michael told me about how she undresses him with her eyes.

Bring your whole goddamn stable tonight, Mr. Scott. I will dispatch them with aplomb...after all, I'm a 34 DD now.


	19. Chapter 19

HELL NIGHT: ANDY

Dad used to have dinner parties. Entertaining clients, right? My younger brother, Walter Junior, told me about them. I wasn't allowed to come downstairs because they said I was disruptive. But Mummy didn't have to lock my door.

Ask me. "Andy, are you prepared for the boss's dinner party?" I am all over it, dude. Abso-frickin-lutely. We're in the house now, it's a condo. Small.

Dad would say it's about the size of our guest house. But I can't mention that. In Anger Management, I learned to be suave, but not rude.

This is the first time Angela and I have been to a social event together. Is she excited? She's playing her cards kind of close to the vest. I think Michael stresses her out, but after all, he is our fearless leader.

Wait. I did go with Angela to this clinic protest thing. They do some circular walk in front of Planned Parenthood on Saturday mornings.

Angela got mad because I, you know, made the observation that the walkers with the rosaries AND the escorts for the ex-mothers to be, both sides of the coin, are really out of shape. Maybe they all could walk a little faster, you know?

The only time the escorts move fast is when we throw the blood at them.

Gramps says poor people in the U.S. are always fat, which means they don't need welfare. Gramps is a card.

So I'm trying to get bonus points with Angela, this dinner party and all. After we saw Jan's office and her workspace, which are two different rooms, I said something to Angela on the hush-hush that you'd think Michael could have his own bedroom? Since they don't share a bed.

And Angela kind of smiled, which she doesn't do often. "You don't know what Jan does with those other rooms, Andy, bordellos, dungeons. They aren't like us."

That was great. Angela and I had a moment. Almost like in "Love Story" before Jenny gets cancer. I used to watch that movie over and over on VHS when I was locked in my room.


	20. Chapter 20

HELL NIGHT: ANGELA

I'll say this for Andy. He's persistent. I admire that in a man. He told me that Cornell kept asking him not to come back every semester, but he kept coming back anyway, and the dean gave up.

Andy asked me out constantly, and I have another romantic interest with "D" that didn't work out. "D" is the only man with character I think I've ever known, except for my father, who was a strict disciplinarian.

But Andy's nice, and a little naive. He just told me he paid to get an inspection sticker for his car, and the guy who got it for him said "Don't ever sell the car with this sticker on it, or a lot of good people will go to jail." Andy has no sleaze radar. This may help if I do marry him and he has to meet my uh, siblings.

I always wanted a good provider. I met a woman on the beach who later took me to lunch and told me she was homosexually in love with me, which is probably why she took off her wetsuit when we met.

I of course demurred, and then, because she said she was into real estate said "Well you should go, I'm sure you have a house to show." And the homosexual replied, "I don't show houses, I build shopping centers."

Now that would have been sinful, but she would have been a good provider. I don't care about sex, Mother used to tell me that her mother, who grew up in the U.K. said "On the wedding night, dear, just lie back and think of England."

I was foolish enough to lose my virginity pre-marriage when I was only twenty-eight, which happens to be the only thing I have in common with my boss, and was unimpressed with fornication until I met "D" who just made me-even now, that we are estranged, thinking of him makes me itch all over.

"D" is here. At this party that my idiot boss is giving with his whorish girlfriend. Andy. "D" killed my cat, which I will never forgive him for, but I can't seem to replicate his feelings with Andy. "D" seems to have brought an old woman who used to be his baby-sitter. "D" used to have relations with her as well, but I blame that on youthful exuberance.

Pam is here, with Jim, her foolish conquest. She could have married Roy, who seemed very manly, though not as manly as "D" who defeated Roy when he was causing a disturbance in the office. "D" used pepper spray like Bruce Lee did in the movies "D" and I watched together during afterglow.

"D" would get so excited during Bruce Lee movies, and when I told him my film fantasy, which was a scene where Jodie Foster plays an ingrate murderess...it's called "The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane". In the movie, an older woman slaps Jodie Foster, and then of course is murdered by her.

For some reason, I always was excited by watching the slap, and Father had the movie on his old Betamax, and played it again and again...the "slap" scene, and I think we were both very excited by it, as I would sit on his lap as a little girl as he showed me the only decent photoplay...oh we loved it, and Mother threw all the tapes out after Father died.

But "D"was so understanding when I told him about "The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane" Alexis Smith, who plays Cora Hallet, the woman who strikes Jodie Foster, is quite talented. She also starred with Bing Crosby in "Here Comes the Groom" and in a boxing movie with Errol Flynn, an actor who I think was disgusting.

And "D" let me sit on his lap and he took his remote and played the slapping scene over and over again. He would say to me "But Jodie doesn't cry. Would you cry if I slapped you?" and I'd answer "Yes, sir." and then we'd make whoopee.

I just left the kitchen. I caught Pam in a lie. Jan told Pam that she knew she had feelings for Michael, as apparently Michael confessed to Jan that they were involved, and Pam, of course denied it, she lies when she moves her lips. But I told Jan, right in front of Pam, that I'd seen the way Pam looks at Michael.

Jan's a whore, too, but I can't abide liars.

Oh God. "D"s in the living room, and his hand is on the old babysitter's knee. I know he misses me. He must, because he won't look at me.

Andy is coming over with a glass of sparkling cider for me. I can't stand it when he touches me, but we went ring shopping at the Steamtown mall. That was a rewarding experience.


	21. Chapter 21

HELL NIGHT: ANGELA (again)

"D" and I just had a moment! We haven't spoken since Sprinkles's murder. But he came up just as I left the kitchen, and listened at the door, and whispered "Is Jan admonishing Pam?" and I told him the story quickly, and he gave me that enigmatic smile. He still makes me quiver.

My grandmother said that I was too close to Father, and we shouldn't have been watching the movie over and over, with me on his lap. She wouldn't have liked "D".

I never visited my grandmother in the nursing home. My brother didn't either, because the first time he went, she didn't have her purse there. Reasons.

I did whisper to "D" that if we waited a bit, perhaps Jan would slap Pam, but then Andy began calling for me. Sometimes he spoils everything


	22. Chapter 22

HELL NIGHT: MICHAEL

I love parties. And this one is jumpin'. My buddy Jim, you know I kind of had to trick him into coming tonight, he and Pam are so busy, they've never dropped by. But you know, I think he's impressed by my bachelor pad-where I'm having regular sex, with Jan.

I showed Jim the table I made, and stuff I've bought online-Jan thinks I spend too much buying from infomercials at midnight, but like the President says, you have to reinvest your money in the economy, right?

I see new respect in Jim's eyes. Not that he didn't respect me before, I'm his boss, and his best friend, a father figure, really. But in Jim's eyes I see "Hey Michael, you're the Scranton James Bond. I'm sorry I laughed at your "Threat Level Midnight" script now. We should hang out all the time, Rio, Monticello, wherever it is they play roulette. Let's be secret agents together." His words, not mine.

He's jumpy, though. Jim asked where Pam was, and I told him-"Jan is giving Pam the what-for 'cause Pammie was ogling me in my shorts at the Rabies Fun Run."

Then Jim almost lunged for the kitchen, and I laughed and said I was joking-but I'm not, Jan is really annoyed, taking Pam to task. Cat fight in the kitchen! I hope not.

When we were discussing past romances, Jan and I, one night, maybe I fudged the numbers a teeny bit, because Jan's had so many lovers-even her old assistant, Hunter calls her and they talk all breathy, and she cries. So I might've stretched the truth.

But, when Jan was screaming about Pam, I said something cute like "Well, there's enough of me to go around ladies." I thought she'd laugh it off, but Jan's weird sometimes.

But this is a great party, like they have on "Masterpiece Theater". We don't have any servants. I was thinking of offering the little turban guy who does our IT a few pesos to come and pass around a plate of cheese, crackers, but I'm a little short this month.

Why is Dwight here? I told him not to come, and he shows up anyway, with Grandma Moses. Still, now I can perhaps discuss my idea of investing in Jan's candle company. Jim, Andy, Dwight. This way, even if they don't invest, I can write this dinner off as a business thing, right?

Maybe Jan and Pam are talking about us doing a three-way. Would Jim understand?

Gals been in the kitchen for a long time. I wonder what ossobuco tastes like. It sounds like one of Tony Soprano's nephews, doesn't it?


	23. Chapter 23

HELL NIGHT: DWIGHT (OR "I ACHIEVE, THEREFORE I AM")

I know the real reason Michael didn't want to invite me to this dinner party. It wasn't because I was so-called "Single" or because he only had six wine glasses.

This is a big business thing. I am almost sure that Jim and Andy convinced Michael that I am not a truly viable member of the sales team, and they of course want Michael all for themselves.

But I'm an achiever. I've won many sales awards, I spoke to the shareholders as Salesman of the Year once. If there was ever a Survival of the Fittest, I think Charles Darwin must've met one of my ancestors. Well, maybe not. I think his book was about monkeys.

Angela had an evolution argument with me once. She asked me if I knew anyone who looked as if they were descended from monkeys. I ventured Meredith's name, and we laughed. I began calling Angela "monkey" as a pet name. It was cute at one time.

Normally I don't bring Melvina out much. She started as my babysitter when Mom was manning the phones at Concerned Women for America. The CWA were trying to defeat the Equal Rights Amendment by baking cakes, but Mom can't cook worth a damn, so she was on the phones, and someone had to look after me.

Mom hired Melvina, and we got along well. She says she let me win at "Electronic Talking Battleship" but I think I let her think she was letting me win when I...what was the question?

Melvina and I only became carnal when I was selling women's cosmetics door to door after high school.

Yes. Women's cosmetics. I proved that I could be as legitimate as any other Mary Kay representative. The trick is to tell the customer that all the stuff is hypo-allergenic. Is it? I don't know.

I've never been allergic to anything except stupidity, indolence, and the waitresses at Hooters who consistently mess up my order when Michael takes me there on my birthday. (Why do they hire such idiots?)

Melvina is sixty-one, but she tells me she can sixty-nine like a champ. I think I know what that means, but my carburetor has never blown out when we've been driving. I have tools in my trunk, she could show me her expertise.

I don't know if Melvina is nervous here at the party. She was quite enthused to get to go out with me publicly. We attend the same church, but I always have her enter separately, just because I think she'll make more friends that way.

But Melvina put in her good teeth, and the camisole with push-up bra that I gave her for Hay King Fellowship Day last year. Does Angela notice Melvina, is there a flick of jealousy? Don't know, don't care.

Do the other men envy me my experienced love partner? I wouldn't be surprised. Andy can't possibly be having anything serious with Angela, and Pam is so washed out looking. Not that Jim could really experience a ripe partner. He'd never know the difference.

As for Michael, I discovered tonight that he and Jan have a camera tripod in their bedroom. I would think they'd be sick of all the documentary cameras at work. Melvina told me what she thinks the camera in the bedroom is for...apparently the manager of her apartment complex has one like it and a mirror on the ceiling.

Why would anyone want to be filmed doing THAT? The CIA could get a hold of the tape and watch it while they, you know, onanised.

What a strange woman Jan is. She's playing this lame CD that her ex-assistant toy boy made, and dancing around, her fake breasts bouncing in that slutty red top. I am not speaking to Angela, but we did just exchange a knowing look. It's sad that only Angela and Rolf from my paintball league understand what the world should be about.

Sometimes I think someone like Donald Trump, of "Celebrity Apprentice" should be the President of the U.S. It could never happen, but what a dream! Or maybe Jesse Ventura, or Doctor Who, though I'm not sure which one.


	24. Chapter 24

HELL NIGHT: CREED

I just want to know what's going on. I can't be homeless again. The last time I was on the streets, I couldn't eat at the charity food trucks because they have all this meat, and I'm a vegetarian. Gotta keep my job.

There are cutbacks and layoffs, and this house might be where the big boys are planning my demise, you know? So I followed them all here. In the garage, Michael is talking to Dave and Andy and the tall one about investing in a candle business. So the paper thing might be over.

Out at the curb, I met a nice little man with an Amish beard, no 'stache. He came along with Dave and his date with instructions to watch the car while Dave and Melvina are inside. It's a dodgy neighborhood, Dave says.

The little Amish is a beet farmer. Sounds good. If you lose your job, go to the land.

In the window of the house, Michael's gal is throwing things around, just busted the TV set. See, it's all info. There's a reason why I wasn't invited to this shindig, but the police seem to be here, so I guess I'll go home.


	25. Chapter 25

HELL NIGHT: DWIGHT'S TRIUMPH

Yes, I feel that it was Providence that brought me to the dinner party. I brought my own date, and a cooler of my own food. And two wineglasses. When Jan lost it after Michael put the St. Pauli Girl sign back up, I knew that I was there to combat his Achilles heel.

Angela and Andy were no help and seem quite ill-suited. Jim and Pam are like barnacles on a social ship. I am afraid I had to go out in the back and call the police so we could amend this without me having to snap Jan's neck. Not that any judge would have convicted me.

The boys in blue came, I saw Earl, who dis-respected me as a junior deputy before I had to resign over the urine test fraud that Michael made me perpetrate. But, in that case, and in this one, the end justifies the means.

I dislodged Melvina, and Michael and I are home, now, at my house, watching "Death Wish", which I review several nights a week, just to remind me of the important things. I hope to meet Charles Bronson someday. He's a great Republican.


	26. Chapter 26

HELL NIGHT: JAN'S HOSTESSING DEMISE

My second husband, Larry Gould and I used to entertain. It was nothing like this. We fought, but not usually in front of guests. Of course Larry was an Oxycontin user, and this made him a bit calm. Michael's so manic.

My first husband, Ivar, is now a woman, but once was quite manic as well. Now perhaps "Iris" has the woman's perspective on this, but there's still the restraining order.

Pam lied about her past relationship with Michael. I know it. Jim's a big idiot to follow her around, he's in a daze. Sometimes I wish that Jim and I had spent time together, but you can tell that he is intimidated by healthy egos.

I am trying to glue the Dundie together that I threw at Michael's joke of a TV screen. I think there have been tensions since we went up to New York for the deposition. I didn't mean to betray Michael by showing his diary, but he seems to have forgotten about it.

Pam had a secret smile I think, when Michael left with Dwight. She can't stand it that he was in a healthy relationship. There was also some envy, I think when she was listening to Hunter's song about (and this is what it was about) his loss of his innocence.

I was involved with that. Hunter was going to get a crappy performance review, and really, he typed about nine words a minute, so I was working with him, and it got out of hand.

Still, we had something, and it's a shame that Hunter's parents (who called him "Lloyd") didn't like me.

What to do about Michael? Andy and Dwight are so obviously his yes-men. They'll tell him to stay away from me-and yet, I want...want him back. And there's his condo, of course. I've wiped out my savings and my 401k.

I keep looking at that ugly little table he built, and it makes me cry.


	27. Chapter 27

DATING IS NOT FOR DUMMIES

I still don't understand why Pam objected to me finding a love life with her mom, Helene. Helene is a vigorous partner, and perhaps I shouldn't have been doing phone sex at the receptionist's desk, but Packer had shat on the floor again...

So, on the phone, we got a little loud, Helene and I, and I perhaps made the mistake of saying "I'm going to spank your bare bottom, bad girl" where Pammie could hear it. It's not my fault she is uncomfortable with her parent's fantasies.

Losing Jan was difficult. I mean, really. I didn't like being around Jan much, it's true. Helene is great and inventive in bed, and she really had to drag me to bed the first time. We were at the kids' wedding, and I asked if she had a snack in her purse. Moms do that, sometimes, although of course her kids are grown.

I also came on a bit to Pam's sister, and a cousin, Lucinda, but I think, seriously I do that Helene was the pick of the Beesly litter. And, during afterglow, I reassured her that Jim would be a good husband to her.

Helene, later on, talked about her swinging days back in the 80's, and I suggested we do that with our favorite young couple, and then Helene didn't call me for a few days. Women are funny. Seriously, the only other person I know who might be up for a threesome is Kevin, and that's just a nasty image.

And I deserve this! A girlfriend from the wedding, right? I think Dwight is currently banging two of Pam's bridesmaids. He told me that he likes for them to wear the ugly bridesmaids dresses, because they seem to mentally "honor" him...

Here's a postscript. I told Helene about Jan, and I talked to Jan, who said that she might be up for a threesome, but then Helene saw Jan from our car and thought she looked too scary. Also, Jan AND Helene both wanted to do it with a third man...not a girl. But how would that work? And besides, the guy might fall in love with me.

My drama teacher in high school told me that men get together with other guys because "there's so much more you can do with a boy."


End file.
